


The Case of the Vanishing Bride

by Aurora_bee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Complete, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Secrets, Gen, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Marriage, Murder, Mystery, Secrets, Sexual Confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 17,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain John Watson is invalided home from Afghanistan, his return to his ancestral home brings up some interesting mysteries in the family.</p><p>Complete</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Captain John Watson was a proud and deeply feeing man. He'd left his family home at 18 to become a doctor, something that was very out of character for the Watsons. All they seemed to be interested in was money and keeping up appearances. Fortunately John had not inherited that gene, instead taking advantage of his family's wealth and devoting his life to the less fortunate. He'd trained to become a surgeon at St Bart's Hospital in London and joined the army to satisfy his need to care and protect.

John was completing his first tour of Afghanistan when he'd received the news. His brother Harry had slipped while hiking with his fiancée Mary and some friends. Harry had broken his neck, severing his spinal cord and died instantly. Harry and he had never really got on, mainly because of his brothers heavy drinking and his tendency to get a bit aggressive. John could almost feel the bruises when he thought about it. But Harry was still his brother and he loved him.

He was allowed home for a few days for the funeral. Most of which was spent travelling to his family home, Ayton Castle in Scotland. As drove up to the Castle he gazed at the sprawling countryside and rolling hills of his home he came to a stark realisation. Captain John Hamish Watson was now the 12th baron of Ayton.

The funeral was held at Ayton Parish Church. It was a dismal affair, the rain pelted on the church roof so loudly that no one could hear the eulogy. Not that they would over his brothers fiancée's wailing. Afterward John had taken her to the side and held her in the hope of giving her some comfort. She was a petite woman with chestnut hair that fell over her face in perfect ringlets. John knew exactly why his brother had been attracted to her. She'd kissed his cheek and thanked him then insisted she would write to him when he returned to Afghanistan.

Mary Morstan kept her promise. Every week without fail he received a letter. After long periods of sleeping on hard ground, filthy and covered in the blood of his fellow soldiers it was relaxing to have a little normalcy. Mary talked of caring for her sick mother, her job managing the local charity shop, the cakes she helped bake for the church fete with his cook Mrs Hudson. It brought a smile to his lips when he was somewhere where smiles we few and far between. Their letters continued over the next two years, John's feelings for her growing with each passing day. Finally it had happened, for the first time in his life John realised he had found someone he could be with, someone his family would accept. 

He sent her his proposal with a ring he had fashioned from a little gold brocade from his dress uniform, promising he would buy her a real one when he returned from duty. He patiently waited two weeks for the reply and when it finally came he found his hands were shaking so much he couldn't open it. His friend Bill had opened it for him and smiled widely. The rest of the night was spent celebrating with what little they could find. John couldn't wait to get home to his lovely new fiancée.

Two weeks before John was due to return to home all hell broke loose. His unit had been making a routine check on some locals when gunfire erupted around them. They had no chance to find cover as the locals dived inside their homes. John had heard a high pitched whistle whizz past his ear before he felt the pain in his shoulder. He fell instantly on the arid ground only aware that his colleagues were screaming at him. He closed his eyes to try and save his strength aware that he was dying. Please let me live, he thought as the image of his beautiful Mary permeated his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the castle after his injury.

The road to recovery was long and arduous. John spent a month in a medi centre in Afghanistan before being sent home to recuperate. He was lucky to be alive he thought to himself. His life meanwhile had changed permanently.

Mary had been an angel, the moment he had returned she'd cleared her schedule and spent every moment she could caring for him. Watching the woman he wondered how she managed it. Mary never tired, never lost her temper when he was having a bad day. The woman in person was even more spectacular than the woman of letters.

John's shoulder still didn't work properly and no amount of physio therapy seemed to help. Meanwhile his leg which hadn't been injured continued to get worse, so much so that he could hardly walk. The doctors had sent him to a therapist sighting that he had PTSD. He'd gone, listened to the therapist drone on about it being psychosomatic, and left. He knew better, he missed the adrenalin coursing though his veins. John continued to become more and more depressed, denying it even to himself. After all why would he be depressed, he had Mary. The woman could make the birds sing with her smile alone.

 

John stayed in the castle with his remaining family. A dull and monotonous existence of sleeping and physio. His only solace of the day being a perfect morning cup of tea made by the hands of the cook Mrs Hudson.

"You know this is all for the best my darling." His mother had said as she watched him struggle across the room to sit down in the armchair next to the fireplace.

"How's that?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"Well now you can settle down with Mary. Her family is so prestigious you know, it's a perfect match. You're the Barron of Ayton and she will be the Baroness. It's all so perfect." She smiled. John couldn't think of anything more tedious. His injury had prevented him from doing what he loved, and the hope he'd set up a small practice one day was now a dream. 

"Oh leave him alone Margret." John's grandmother said from the other chair next to the fire where she was knitting. "The boy's just come home."

"It's fine." He said, taking the knitting needle out of his grandmother's hand and warming it with his own. "I love Mary." John's grandmother looked closely into his eyes.

"Are you sure?" She asked, a flicker of something John couldn't identify in her eyes.

"Why don't you two set a date then?" John's mother asked. "I know the church has an opening next month. Oh my wouldn't it be wonderful! A Spring wedding." She hurried over to the phone to call the vicar.

 

"I love you John Watson." Mary said. It was the night before their wedding. As tradition dictated in the Watson family Mary was to sleep in the tower bedroom with the door locked. John had struggled up the long winding staircase to wish his fiancée good bye. The next time he would see her she would be walking up the aisle toward him.

"This is a stupid tradition." John said as his mother jangled the keys. "She's not going to run away!" Mary simply smiled at him.

"Darling it's just a tradition." Mary said as she winked at him. She closed the bedroom door. John's mother locked it and pulled the steel bolts across.

"Come on." John's mother said. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be the best day of your life." 

 

Later that night John lay in his bed unable to sleep. He wanted to marry Mary, and he also wanted to do the right thing by his family. But it didn't quite feel right, it was all so much so soon. Perhaps it would shock his system into accepting his new life, one that he should be grateful for even having. He looked at the ceiling knowing that in the room above him his bride to be was probably nervous. It brought a smile to his lips knowing that he had someone that loved him.

 

John did his shoulder exercises as Mrs Hudson put some jam on toast and tea on his bedside table.

"I know you're probably too nervous to eat dearie, but it's there just in case." Mrs Hudson said smiling happily. She watched him for a moment, concerned at the lack of progress and lack of movement in his arm. "Perhaps you should see another specialist." She before suggested before they both heard a loud scream.

John grabbed his cane and made his way as fast as he could to the tower bedroom where the noise was coming from. His mother was frantically searching the room, for what he didn't know.

"Where's Mary?" He asked. His mother looked at him her eyes red and face blotchy.

"That's the thing John, I unlocked the door and she wasn't here." She said as she double checked the bathroom. 

John looked around the room, Mary's things were still all there. Her wedding dress hung undisturbed in the plastic bag, her shoes neatly placed underneath. The only thing that was slightly amiss were her ripped stocking's on the floor next to the bed.

"Call the police." John said as the butler walked into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is unbeta'd if you spot anything please let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock meet.

Sherlock Holmes self proclaimed consulting detective to the police lay alone in his bed in the grotty bedsit he rented. Rehabilitation hadn't been easy for him and he feared his brain might atrophy into nothingness from boredom. The drugs had helped ease the tedium of life but now he was all alone in his head. Inspector Lestrade had kept him going through the worst of it, giving him cases, letting him use his genius. But in the last week the cases seemed few and far between. Sherlock longed for something to really get his teeth into.

He took a drag on the long cigarette he was holding and reached for his mobile. He scrolled through his text messages and spotted one he'd previously ignored.

**Sherlock, something terrible has happened. The Barron's fiancée has disappeared without a trace from a locked room. I don't know what to do. Please come. It's Mrs Hudson by the way.**

Sherlock smiled, Mrs Hudson still didn't understand mobile phones. But the woman was dear friend providing him with more than enough food to feed a small army through the post. They'd met a few years before he started dabbling in drugs. He'd saved her from her violent husband, ensured his execution in America, and she'd saved him from starvation. 

He looked at the various experiments strewn around his flat. There was nothing that couldn't wait, and to be honest he could do with some fresh air. The challenge of a locked room mystery helped too. He located his overnight bag, packed a few clothes and some nicotine patches. Then wrapped his blue cashmere scarf around his neck and pulled on his long grey woollen coat This was going to be fun he thought to himself.

 

The police had been in the castle closing on two days and hadn't turned up any new evidence. It looked like John's bride had just run away with the help of someone at the castle. He didn't know why, she seemed happy and was excited about becoming the Baroness of Ayton. John was a quiet man, not prone to violence and although it would have hurt, he would have accepted it. All John wanted to know now was that she was safe. Mary was, after all his closest friend since he'd returned. 

He climbed the spiral staircase to the tower bedroom. In the hope that perhaps he could see something the police had missed. A tall police officer with curly dark hair stood in the middle of the room staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Upon hearing John's footsteps he turned around. John found himself staring into the most beautiful blue almond shaped eyes he had ever seen. John swallowed the lump in his throat.  
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" The stranger asked. John's eyes narrowed as he took in the man's features. Soft curls framed his eerily pale angular face. High cheek bones lead down to a slightly retrousse nose and perfect plump cupid's bow lips.

 

"Afghanistan? Sorry how did you?" John asked as the stranger interrupted him.

"There's one small window in this room not big enough for someone to climb through. From rafters it appears that we are in an attic room, which is odd considering my calculations. There are two possible solutions, either someone let her out, which seems unlikely as all of her clothes are still here, or she is still in the room." With that the stranger walked to the door.

"Hang on, who are you and how did you know about Afghanistan?" John shouted. The stranger whirled around a blur of blue and grey.

"I know you're an army doctor, and you've been invalided from Afghanistan, and I know that you're therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. I also know that you're gay, and hiding it from your family. The name's Sherlock Holmes and I'm staying with Mrs Hudson in her cottage." With that Sherlock Holmes disappeared down the staircase, leaving John feeling more than a little uncomfortable.


	4. Chapter 4

John sat on the four poster bed in the tower room, amazed at Sherlock Holmes' revelations. He breathed deeply and tried to maintain his composure. How did he the man know those things, not to mention his deepest secret. It was disconcerting to say the least. 

He ran his fingers across the silk bed cover and felt something touch his finger. John looked at his hand, several dead flies were in the centre of the bedspread. He looked up at the ancient canopy above. Where the curtains of the four poster bed gathered in the middle was a gap. Just big enough for a fly to climb into. John swept them up into his hand to put in the bin as the butler appeared at the door. 

"I thought you might require some help going back down the stairs." The butler asked.

"No that's fine Moriarty, I was just up here thinking about Mary. I wish I knew where she was." He said as he stood slowly and rested his weight on his cane, he felt drained.

"I wish could help sir." The butler said as he held the door open for John.

"Thank you. I wish you could too." John replied sadly.

 

"Mrs Hudson." John shouted as he entered the Castle's vast kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air and he felt his mouth watering in anticipation. He took a seat by the old oak kitchen table as he heard Mrs Hudson's footsteps.

"John." She said smiling happily. "You haven't been down to the kitchen for ages. Would you like some fresh bread and jam?" John could feel his blood sugar levels rise just thinking about it. It felt just like when he was a little boy and he would sneak down to pinch the crust off the bread. 

"Yes please Mrs Hudson." He said a little too quickly. She placed a hot mug of tea in front of him and he used it to warm his hands in anticipation of his snack. "Mrs Hudson, I believe you have a guest at your cottage, a Mr Holmes."

"Oh dear, I hope you don't mind. He's a friend of mine and he helped me with something along time ago. I thought he could help us find Mary. I don't like to see you like this." Mrs Hudson said as she wrung her hands. 

"Thank you. I could use a little help." John said as he sipped his tea. "He does seem a little odd though."

"You don't know the half of it." Mrs Hudson laughed. "He's a good boy though, his heart's in the right place and he's a genius." John didn't doubt that for one moment.

"Did you tell him about me?" John asked as a plate of bread and jam was placed in front of him. He picked up a piece and nibbled the crust.

"No deary why? Oh he hasn't done that thing where he can tell you your life story has he?" She asked feeling embarrassed.

"Sort of." John smiled, as he licked the jam off his fingers. "Do you think I could perhaps come to the cottage and meet him properly?"

"Of course you can, you know you're welcome. We're having ham hock, new potato's and parsley sauce for dinner would you like to join us?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"What are we having here tonight?" John asked knowing full well it Mrs Hudson's night off.

"Mackerel again by the smell of it." She replied as he sat down with her own mug of tea. John wondered why his mother always insisted on feeding him mackerel when he hated it with a passion, punishment for something or other he assumed.

"I think I'll join you tonight if you don't mind." John smiled.

 

John walked down the dark gravel path to Mrs Hudson's cottage a torch in one hand his walking stick in the other. He stumbled over some roots loosing his balance.

"Stupid bloody leg." He cursed, as the pain shot through his calf and up his thigh.

"You should be careful what you say in these woods you never know who might be listening." A rich baritone voice said. John shone the torch in front of him revealing the tall, thin figure of Sherlock Holmes.

"You frightened the life out of me." John said annoyed.

"I apologise, now if you could please stop shining that light in my eyes." Sherlock said as he held his gloved hand out in front of him.

"Sorry." John said turning the light to the path in front of them. Sherlock fell into step beside him. "What are you doing out here anyway?" John asked.

"Mrs Hudson asked me to come and check you were alright." Sherlock said slowing his pace so that John was beside him. John's lips thinned in annoyance. "I told her you didn't need any help." Sherlock smiled, John relaxed. Of course he didn't need any help, he just needed time, and the man next to him seemed to understand that.

"Mrs Hudson said you helped her before, can I ask how?" John asked changing the subject.

"When I met you earlier I said Afghanistan or Iraq, you looked surprised." Sherlock said.

"Yes, how did you know?" John said as he struggled with his cane.

"I didn't know I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. I also spotted the letter in your pocket, I'm not even sure you're aware of it. It's addressed to Dr Watson, Mrs Hudson hadn't mentioned your mother or grandmother being a doctor therefore I assume you are. Army doctor then. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad but not sunbathing. Your limps really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it. So it's at least partly partly psychosomatic. That says that the original circumstance of the injury were traumatic, wounded in action then. Wounded in action, suntan, Afghanistan or Iraq." Sherlock surmised. 

"You said I had a therapist?" John interrupted.

"With a psychosomatic limp of course you've got a therapist. Then there's your secret. You looked at me when I turned around studying me, your eyes dilated, your breathing quickened. You find me attractive, and since you were about to Marry a woman, you're keeping it secret from your family." Sherlock said as they reached Mrs Hudson's garden gate.

"That. Was amazing." John said in awe. Sherlock was taken aback.

"You think so?" He asked.

"Of course it was, it was extraordinary, quite extraordinary." John replied hoping it didn't sound to much like a chat up line.

"That's not what people normally say." Sherlock said shocked by John's compliment.

"What do people normally say?" John asked.

"Piss off." Sherlock smiled. "Did I get anything wrong?"

"I do want to keep the fact I prefer men from my mother. She wouldn't understand, she believes that homosexuality is a choice." John said opening the gate to Mrs Hudson's garden.

"Spot on, I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock said triumphantly.

"You weren't. My Grandmother caught me kissing the butler." John grinned.

"There's always something." Sherlock said annoyed as he unlocked the front door of the cottage.


	5. Chapter 5

John sat on Mrs Hudson’s old flowery sofa, more comfortable and sated than he had ever felt in his life. Beside him sat Sherlock Holmes stomach swollen, quietly hoping that the button of his trousers wouldn’t pop off. Mrs Hudson appeared with two steaming hot cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table. 

“Thank you Mrs Hudson.” John smiled, possibly the only movement he could make. “That was a lovely meal.”

“I’ll go and get your dessert ready. We have apple pie and custard.” Mrs Hudson said as she trotted off to the kitchen. Sherlock rolled his eyes and rubbed his bloated stomach.

“Can you move Mr Holmes?” John asked stretching to pick up his cup of tea. Sherlock shook his head and closed his eyes. There was just too much food, too much delicious food and although they knew there would be more the next day they didn’t want to miss a bite.

“Call me Sherlock.” He managed before groaning as his stomach protested about being at the slight movement his vocal cords made. “Urgg.” He groaned staring in the direction of the front window. “I think I can hear someone outside.” John raised an eyebrow and listened carefully. No one usually came out to Mrs Hudson’s house this late. He could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the front garden.

“I suppose we should have a look.” John said as he struggled to stand. 

The glass from the front window suddenly shattered, spraying shards all over John and Sherlock. A large red brick lay in the middle of the floor of the sitting room.

“What the?” John said staring at the offending item

“Come on! “ Sherlock cried, he was suddenly on his feet and speeding toward the door. John followed him through the hallway out of the front door and made chase after the vandal.

They could see the dark silhouette of the assailant ahead making his way into the woods that surrounded the grounds of the castle. They followed him as he zigzagged through the trees, expertly avoiding fallen trees and roots.

“He knows the woods!” Sherlock said to John who had managed to keep up with him. John nodded keeping pace with Sherlock. Mentally he was making a list of suspects in his head.

“He’s making his way to the stream.” John shouted, hoping that they could apprehend him before they got there. Sherlock gracefully leapt over a fallen tree, John followed, feeling the blood course through his veins. The stream was close, they could see the assailant wading through the water to the other side.

“He’s got across.” John shouted annoyed.

“Not a problem.” Sherlock replied as they neared the stream. It appeared like he had taken off as Sherlock glided through the air and landed on the other side. “Come on John we’re loosing him.” Sherlock shouted as John came to a full stop on the other side. John walked back a few feet and too a run at it. He landed with a loud thud safely on the other side then ran as fast as he could to catch up to Sherlock. 

John stared at the path in front of him, there were no more footprints, no sign of anyone having been there. 

“We’ve lost him!” John cried kicking a tree stump. Sherlock panted resting his hands on his thighs and nodded. “Why the bloody hell would someone do that?”

“Perhaps someone doesn’t like me medalling in your affairs.” Sherlock replied as he looked back along the path that they had made.

“We should go back.” John said, suddenly realising that they had left Mrs Hudson alone.

“You got your breath back?” Sherlock asked.

“Ready when you are.” John said as they broke into a run.

 

“There you are.” Mrs Hudson said grinning fiercely as Sherlock and John returned. John looked at her confused.

“I don’t understand, why are you smiling? Someone just broke your window.” Mrs Hudson put out her right hand in which she held John’s cane.

“Oh!” John said beaming, realising that his leg didn’t hurt anymore. 

“I think a celebratory glass of something is in order.“ Mrs Hudson said as she pulled John into a tight hug. John watched Sherlock smile over her shoulder. 

“Thank you.” John mouthed to Sherlock. 

 

"Really John you don't have to stay the night. Sherlock can look after me." John put the last nail in the board covering the window.

"I'm not leaving you two here with some lunatic on the loose." John said adamantly. "Besides, I'm not looking forward to explaining my leg to my mother." Mrs Hudson giggled.

"Now you mustn't say things like that, your mother is a very good employer. John do you want to help me get the blow up mattress out?" She asked turning to go up the stairs.

"No point Mrs Hudson, John can have my room. I hardly sleep so the sofa will be fine." Mrs Hudson frowned at him. 

"Sherlock, you should take better care of yourself. Well if that's all boys I'll be off to bed. There's a bottle of single malt whiskey in the bureau." Ms Hudson slowly made her way to her room leaving John and Sherlock alone.

"I'm concerned about what just happened, why would anyone do something like that to Mrs Hudson?" John said as he took the bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet. 

"It was a warning." Sherlock replied.

"A warning for what?" John asked as he poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass.

"Could be one of several reasons. At the moment I can tell you that the perpetrator was a male, roughly 5'8", about our age and local. I have to test our my theory first." John nodded in response and handed Sherlock the glass.

"You know, you look like you don't often get a square meal." John said sitting in the armchair across from him.

"I don't normally eat when I'm on a case." Sherlock said before he sipped his whiskey.

"Case?" John asked. "What do you do?"

"I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world. I invented the job. When the police are out of their depth, which is always they consult me." Sherlock smirked.

"So do you have a girlfriend who feeds you up sometimes?" John asked concerned at Sherlock's lean frame.  
"Is that what girlfriends do, fed you up?" Sherlock asked amused.

"You don't have a girlfriend then." John said rolling his glass in his hands awkwardly.

"Girlfriend no, not really my area." Sherlock replied. 

"Oh right... D'you have a boyfriend? Which is fine by the way." John asked. Sherlock looked at John, this was staring to get interesting he thought to himself.

"I know it's fine." Sherlock replied cautiously, not sure where the conversation was leading. John smiled. It was just conversation he thought, it didn't mean he loved Mary any less.

"So you've got a boyfriend?" John asked.

"No." Sherlock said confused. John licked his lips.

"Right ok, so you're unattached." John half asked turning his attention back to his whiskey glass embarrassed. 

"John uhm, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest I'm really not looking for anything.."

"No, no I'm not asking, no. I'm just saying, it's all fine." John responded.

"Good." Sherlock nodded. His stomach felt odd, he put the whiskey glass down. He looked at his hand it was shaking slightly.

"Are you ok Sherlock?" John asked noticing and sitting down next to him on the sofa. Sherlock turned his head to find John's face two inches from his own. Then Sherlock did something very unusual that he couldn't seem to control. He moved his head forward and kissed John.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short one.

John savoured the full fleshy lips moving against his own. He moved his hand gently along Sherlock's long elegant thigh. In that moment he remembered why Sherlock was there in the first place. He pulled back swiftly.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't, I love Mary, we're going to get married." He looked down at his hand still resting on Sherlock's leg and repeated himself. "I love Mary, and you're married to your work."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine." John said removing his hand. "No harm done. But I should really go to bed. I'm a light sleeper so call if you need anything." Sherlock nodded as John made is way to the guest bedroom. He picked up the glass of whiskey and downed it contents in one. What had he done, he thought to himself. He'd only met John that day and here he was feeing things he'd never felt before. He pulled his packet of long menthol cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up.

 

"I've done boiled eggs and soldiers for your breakfast John." Mrs Hudson shouted as she heard him coming down the stairs. John beamed seeing his favourite breakfast on the table.

"Where's Sherlock." He asked nervously sitting down. He hoped that his rejection hadn't made him leave. 

"He's gone to the castle John. He said he wanted to test out one of his theories." Mrs Hudson replied. John knocked the top of his egg and smiled happily as the runny yolk ran down the sides.

"I can never make them like this." He grinned dipping one of his soldiers in.

 

John recognised Sherlock from behind as he walked up to the castle. Stop thinking of how his ass looks in those tight trousers, you love Mary, John said to himself. Sherlock was staring up at the tower room as he gently tapped him on the arm.

"Made any headway?" John asked as he looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "What the hell happened to you!" John said as he reached out to touch Sherlock's bruised and bloody cheekbone.

"Door." Sherlock replied taking a step back.

"That was not a bloody door." John said feeling anger rise inside him. Whoever had hurt Sherlock was going to pay. "Come on we need to sort that out." John said as he pulled the taller man around into the house.

 

John sat Sherlock down in his chair by the fire. Sherlock grinned as John pulled out an actual Gladstone bag. 

"I hadn't imagined you would own one of those." He said as John cleaned the wound on his cheek with antiseptic.

"They're very handy." John said inspecting the cut. "You won't need stitches, thank goodness." He couldn't bear the thought of anything marring Sherlock's perfect skin. John ran his thumb gently over his cheek wishing he wasn't so attracted to him. Behind him the butler coughed to get his attention.

"Do you require something sir?" He asked. John turned to look at him.

"Moriarty could you please put some ice in a tea towel for Mr Holmes eye. He's had an accident with a door." John turned back to Sherlock, and continued inspecting his injury. The butler frowned at Sherlock and flexed his hand before turning to go to the kitchen.

"John!!!" His mother screamed upon seeing him standing without his cane. John's shoulders dropped as she rushed over and hugged him.

"Mum." John said pulling back. He saw the tears of joy in her eyes and smiled. He pulled her back into the hug. "I'm sorry." John said as he kissed the top of her head. "I've been horrible to live with lately."

 

Sherlock sat alone looking at the fireplace. John's mother had spirited him away to give his grandmother the good news in her rooms. The butler returned with the ice from the kitchen.

"It was you." Sherlock stated as the butler handed him the package of ice. "You know you really shouldn't wear your work clothes when you're running through the woods." Sherlock looked at the flecks of mud on the cuffs of his trousers. 

"You should mind your own business." The butler replied in a strong Irish accent.

"Why do you have something to hide? I mean aside from the obvious." Sherlock smirked.

"Obvious?" The butler laughed the man simply had no idea.

"First threw a brick though Mrs Hudson's window. Then you hit me. Obviously you have an issue with me. Those actions are ones of passion, you're jealous. You came back and saw me kiss John." The butler grinned manically. Sherlock found himself growing more and more uncomfortable in the man's presence.

"I think every one knows how I feel except the Barron." The butler replied, he turned to leave. "Take this as a friendly warning Mr Holmes, back off. If you don't stop prying I will burn you, I will burn the heart out of you." The butler said with venom.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock replied as the butler stalked away.

"Oh we both know that's not quite true." The butler laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're the young man Mrs Hudson told me about." John's grandmother said as she took a seat opposite Sherlock. She held out her hand politely.

"Sherlock Holmes, Mrs Watson." He said as he shook her hand.

"I hadn't imagined you'd be quite so handsome." She replied smiling. " I had imagined you would be like one of those old fashioned detectives with a magnifying glass." 

"Oh I have one, it's in my pocket." He replied, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin.

"Are you going to press charges against Mr Moriarty?" She asked nodding toward his eye. Sherlock looked at the old woman curiously. Obviously she knew exactly what was going on in her own home.

"No, at the moment he is still part of the puzzle. I may need him." Sherlock replied.

"I've never particularly liked Mr Moriarty, but my son owed a debt to his father so I didn't question it." Sherlock nodded as John entered the room.

"Sherlock!" Jon said happily. "I thought you would be gone." John's grandmother watched the two of them interact.

"I was waiting for you. I thought we could take another look at the tower room." John smiled and kissed his grandmother on the cheek.

"Come on then Sherlock we'll have a look." John said buzzing with energy. John's grandmother watched them go, relived that John was returning to his old self. Happy knowing it was all due to the young man that Mrs Hudson has invited. She knew her grandson well, Mr Holmes was just the sort of young man that he needed. Mrs Hudson was due for a well earned rise. 

 

Sherlock stood on the bed using his magnifying glass to inspect the hole in the canopy above him.

"Anything in there?" John asked. Sherlock stated to step off the bed using John's shoulder to steady himself.

"Dead flies." He said as something suddenly crashed against the small window close to the ceiling. He faltered slightly falling onto John's shoulder. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock to steady him, he breathed deeply taking in his scent. Sherlock's hair smelled of freshly washed clothes with he slightest hint of cinnamon. John found himself closing his eyes. Sherlock pulled back. "Sorry... I must go." He said blushing slightly.

"Don't go Sherlock." John said worrying his lip. John couldn't bear the thought of Sherlock leaving. In 24 hours he had grown incredibly fond of the detective. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I just need to go outside John. You can come with me if you'd like." John blushed furiously and followed Sherlock out of the room.

 

Sherlock was looking at a dead crow laying on the ground when John finally caught up with him. It's little neck was broken and it lay sadly in the dirty grey gravel in the driveway. John always hated it when they flew into the windows.

"Do you have a library in Ayton?" Sherlock asked as he pulled up his coat collar.

"There's one at Eyemouth." John replied. "A couple of miles away, but it's a nice walk." 

"Lead the way." Sherlock said as John zipped up his jacket.

 

"What exactly are we doing here?" John asked. Sherlock sat at the microfilm reader quickly scrolling through old copies of the local gazette.

"Something I overheard." Sherlock said concentrating on what he was doing. John stood behind him as Sherlock scrolled through the microfilm occasionally making out a word or two.

"Hang on a sec, those papers are from the 1940's? How does that help us find Mary?" He said as Sherlock frowned annoyed at the interruption.

"Would you stop asking me stupid questions and let me work." Sherlock grumbled not pausing as John walked away. 

It stung as John picked up a copy of the Times and sat down to read. He really shouldn't be feeling this way, he should be thinking of Mary but his mind wandered back to the beautiful detective scrolling though microfilm. How could he ever be an attentive husband to Mary when the idea of making love to her repulsed him. It had been fine when they were just writing, John had been able to convince himself that he could be a good husband. He knew he loved her, he felt it, but it was more like the way he felt about his mother. When they found her he was going to tell her the truth, give her the option of being with him or finding someone that deserved her. John secretly hated himself, hated the family he was born into for doing what they wanted.

"Eureka!" Sherlock shouted startling the patrons of the library. "John come here and look." John stepped behind Sherlock and stared at the screen his mouth agape.

**Man disappears at Ayton Castle**


	8. Chapter 8

They walked slowly back to the castle, John cogitating what he had just learned about his home. He had heard the rumours years before but dismissed them as myth, an urban legend. To know that General Astey a known Nazi sympathiser had visited the house in 1941 and disappeared without a trace was a shock. John worked out that his grandfather would have been a small boy at the time, in which case he may have told his grandmother. He would have to ask her when he returned to the castle. Perhaps his great grandfather's journal's were still in the library. John felt excited at the prospect of piecing together a puzzle and looked forward to Sherlock's deductions. He smiled happily to himself as he kept pace with Sherlock's long strides. He would never be bored with Sherlock around he thought to himself.

The local town clock chimed three in the distance, John looked down at his watch. He'd forgotten he was supposed to be visiting someone. Sherlock had made his thoughts drift away. He stopped and looked around, it wasn't too far away and if he hurried he could still make it on time.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I need to be somewhere, I totally forgot. Do you know your way back, or should I come with you?" He asked worried that he may have to miss his meeting. 

"I think I can find my way." Sherlock smirked, wondering where John needed to be.

 

Sherlock followed behind inconspicuously as John rounded a corner into a little terrace street. He knocked on the front door of the pretty sea green corner house. The door opened and a young boy flew out clutching John around the waist. Sherlock looked on, curious. The child was no more than 5 years old, small with sandy blonde hair and a button nose, not unlike John. The only significant difference was that the child appeared to be wearing a hearing aid.

"Hamish!" John said kissing the child. The mother of the child steeped out of the door and hugged them both kissing John on the cheek. Sherlock stepped back into the shadow's uncomfortable that he'd intruded on such a private moment. 

John called the boy Hamish, his middle name Sherlock thought. Suddenly his heart sank, the boy was obviously John's son. None of it made sense, John was not an irresponsible man, why would he have a child, and a secret one at that. Sherlock wished he had something to numb the pain, just a little prick and he would be able to relax. He patted down his coat wondering if some might have fallen into the lining, he found his cigarettes. Sherlock lit up as he walked back toward the castle. Sherlock couldn't shake John from his thoughts. The man had gotten under his skin like no one else ever had.

 

"Sherlock!" John shouted as he entered Mrs Hudson's sitting room. "My mother has invited you to dinner." Sherlock sighed from where he was lying on the sofa and pulled a cushion over his head. "Something wrong Sherlock?" John asked sitting in the armchair next to him. Sherlock pulled the cushion away an threw it across the room.

"Would you shut up, how am I supposed to think when you're chattering away!" Sherlock shouted angrily. John's face dropped.

"Fine, just let me ask you one thing. Why did you follow me this afternoon?" John asked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He thought he had been very careful while he was following John. "I was in the army Sherlock, did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"What were you doing? I need to know everything if you expect me to find your fiancée." Sherlock demanded annoyed at the fact he' been caught.

"Come to dinner tonight and see if you can make a deduction." John said snidely, before walking out and slamming Mrs Hudson's front door. Sherlock sat thinking steepling his hands under his chin.


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock sat quietly next to John though dinner picking at his food. He nodded occasionally at the conversation pretending he was listening to the dull drone of John’s mother. John’s grandmother continuously smiled at him throughout. John meanwhile was trying to control the anger he felt toward Sherlock. How dare the man follow him, how dare he be angry at him when it was none of his business. 

The dessert course arrived and there was an obvious twinkle in Sherlock’s eyes as a serving of Tiramisu was placed in front of him. John couldn’t help but smile. In the time he had known Sherlock he had noticed that the only thing that he had been enthusiastic about was what he called his work. It appeared Sherlock Holmes did have another passion, dessert. 

After everyone had finished, John nodded to Sherlock and they excused themselves and from the table. 

“I’d prefer if we did this somewhere a little quieter.” John said as he led Sherlock into the library. “It’s personal and I don’t want them to know.”

“I see.” Sherlock said feeling his jealousy rise up again. John closed and locked the library door behind them.

“Here.” John said as he placed a photograph in Sherlock’s hands. Sherlock stared at the photograph of two young boys realising something very obvious.

“You’re an identical twin.” He said clearing his throat.

“I was yes, Harry died a couple of years ago.” John replied. 

“Do you mind if I ask how?” Sherlock said, annoyed at himself for presuming that the young boy was John’s son.

“Hiking accident, he was with Mary and some friends and he slipped.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow this was the first he’d heard of this.

“Mary? You’re fiancée?”

“Yes my fiancée. They were engaged. After his death we became close. I thought I’d fallen in love with her.” John said sighing unhappily and flopping down onto a chair. Sherlock sat down next to him and steepled his fingers under his chin, the plot grew thicker.

“The child is your nephew then. I assume his mother didn’t want him to have anything to do with your alcoholic brother.” Sherlock surmised.

“I’m not even going to ask how you knew that.” John said smiling in awe of his friend’s talent. “I help them out when I can. I’m trying to persuade them to come and see the rest of the family.”

“And of course the child is also the rightful heir to the Barony.” Sherlock said casting his eyes across the bookshelf.

“It’s there if he wants it, but I’m not going to force him into it.” John watched Sherlock gaze at the books.

“Funny isn’t it, having a library in your own house.” John said as he stood. Sherlock was a well educated man, but John couldn’t imagine he had ever owned his own library.

“Mmm.” Sherlock said, and odd looking smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 

Sherlock sat quietly staring at a book he had absolutely no interest in, running the conversation with John over in his head. The only important thing John had said in the whole conversation was 'I thought I’d fallen in love with her'. Replaying the sentence in his head Sherlock could feel something flutter inside, up until this point John had always said 'I love Mary'. He wondered what had happened to change John’s mind. He looked at John searching and old rosewood trunk he’s pulled out. Perhaps John would give him a chance. Sherlock waved his hand in front of his face and deleted the thought.

“Have you found anything?” Sherlock asked not looking up from his book.

“Not yet.” John replied looking at an old tin soldier in his hand.

“Could you please tell me more about Mary? Family, hobbies anything you think might be important.” Sherlock asked.

“Sure.” John said as he continued going through the box. ”Mary’s originally from Bristol, she moved up here about 5 years ago with her mother. She’s got no other family. They bought a little house close to the library because Mary thinks Ayton is idyllic and she adores hiking. She fell in love with Harry for some reason, they were engaged about a month after they met. He died a couple of months later. Mary wrote to me in Afghanistan after the funeral and eventually I asked her to marry me. We seemed to have a lot in common, Mary likes to look after people.”

“Did Mary spend much time with your family?” Sherlock asked.

“She popped in every couple of days to see my mother. She was a mess after Harry. Gran has a bit of a thicker skin than mum, she’s very independent, doesn’t like to faff around with the Women’s Institute.” John laughed. “She’s a bit like you when I think about it.”

“Yes I did notice her fondness of the Tiramisu.” Sherlock laughed.

“So does that cast any light on anything?” John asked finally finding what he was looking for, his great grandfather’s journal.

“I don’t think things are quite what they seem. I don’t think Harry’s death was an accident.” Sherlock said looking John in the eye expecting a negative reaction. John looked down at the journal.

“Harry never liked walking he was into fast cars and faster women.” John opened the journal and flicked through the pages.

“Mary wasn’t his type.” Sherlock stated. John shook his head.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are mistakes in this I'm really not feeling very well but I wanted to update. I'm so bored in bed. Comments are more than welcome!

Sherlock now devoid of his suit jacket sat in quiet contemplation as he read through John's great grandfather's journal. He flicked through the tedium of the day to day business as quickly as possible. There had to be something somewhere he thought as he started to read it again.

"Sherlock." John called out. Sherlock turned in his direction, the man was trembling and had turned as white as a sheet. John was holding an old newspaper cutting and staring at it. Sherlock stood behind him and looked over his shoulder.

"Ah." Sherlock said putting his hand on the doctors shoulder. The page was dated 8th December 1941 and showed the devastation at Pearl Harbour. Just a week before General Astey died at the castle.

"You don't think he? I mean he wasn't in with the General was he?" John asked, having trouble with his words, the thought alone had made his stomach flip. He turned and leaned into Sherlock's chest seeking comfort. Sherlock gently patted his back.

"No John your grandfather was a good man. Look at the hand written note at the top of the page." Sherlock replied stepping back and putting some distance between them.

"17.12.1941 Astey dies!" John shook his head not able to put all the pieces together.

"If you read through your grandfather's journals you will see that the man had a great passion for our country and a dislike for the Nazi's. The exclamation mark he has used in the note suggests that he was happy that Astey died." John nodded in response. "I'd like to check something with my contact, the government, before I continue. There appears to be more to your grandfather than meets the eye."

"Don't you mean your government contact?" John asked smiling.

"No." Sherlock said as he walked toward the door. The old oak bookcase next to Sherlock creaked oddly, swaying slightly. Before he had a chance to move the books were showering him, he felt the solid oak of one of the shelves catch him on the temple before he fell on the floor. 

 

John had somehow lifted the book case off Sherlock and was throwing books about when Sherlock managed to uncover his head.

"Centuries old John. Don't throw them." Sherlock mumbled. 

"Does it look like I fucking care! Just stay still Sherlock." John cried out as he finally managed to uncover his friend. Sherlock struggled to sit up. "Don't move!" John shouted.

"John I'm perfectly fine." Sherlock replied as he regained his composure.

"I'm the doctor." John said firmly. "And you're going to have x-rays at the hospital."

"Please don't." Sherlock asked quietly. "I promise I'm fine." Sherlock stood and looked down at his ripped shirt.

"Sherlock!" John growled.

"Just help me clean myself up." Sherlock said using is eyes to get what he wanted. John's mother and Grandmother appeared at the door to the library.

"My goodness what happened?" John's mother said as she looked at the books strewn over the floor.

"Just an accident." Sherlock replied. "The screw holing the shelf to the wall appears to have come away. They're very old." John's grandmother scowled at him. Sherlock waved her away. "Nothing needs to be done Mrs Watson." He said to her hoping that she wouldn't fire Moriarty on the spot.

"Come on Sherlock. I want to check you over and I've probably got something in my room you can wear." John said as he pulled Sherlock away from the mess. "Moriarty can clean this up."

 

"Take your shirt off." John said as Sherlock sat on the bed.

"I'm a bit cold." Sherlock replied as John opened his bag.

"Here." John said as he threw his dressing gown at Sherlock. Sherlock pulled off the remains of his shirt and stared at his hands resting on his lap.

"Oh." John said taking Sherlock's left hand in his own. He lifted Sherlock's arm and stared at the track marks in the crook of his elbow. "How long?" John asked.

"A couple of months." Sherlock said realising for the first time how ugly the marks were. "I expect you'll want me to leave." He said trying to pull his arm back. John kept a tight grip and sat down beside him.

"No." John said gently kissing the crook of Sherlock's arm. "I don't want you to leave."


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock allowed John to press him down into the mattress as they kissed. John's passionate kisses stole his breath making him feel light headed. But then breathing was boring Sherlock thought as he devoured Johns beautiful mouth. John pulled away panting. 

"I can't believe I'm doing this. You've done something to me Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock smiled and pulled John back down for more savouring every moment.

"John!" John's mother shouted as she flew through the door. She looked at the scene before her on the bed and stopped in her tracks. "John, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like mother?" John said petulantly.

"You're engaged to a woman." She replied confused. 

"Don't, not now." John almost begged.

"What are people going to say." She said fanning herself with her hands. Sherlock got up off the bed.

"That I'm attracted to men." John suggested. She slapped him across the face.

"Get out, get out both of you." She screamed. John pulled Sherlock toward the door. "And I don't want to see him again!" John slammed the bedroom door behind him. He could still hear his mothers sobs through the door. John rested his hand on Sherlock bare chest.

"Will you be ok to go back to Mrs Hudson's without your shirt?" Sherlock nodded enthralled by the tiny movements John's fingertips were making.

"My jacket's in the library." Sherlock replied taking John's hand and kissing his fingertips.

"Sherlock..." John whispered as their eyes met.

 

"Choose a car." John said as they entered the castle's garage. Sherlock smiled and looked at the various models.

"Shouldn't you really chose one as you're going to drive." Sherlock said as he gazed at the Landrover parked nearest to the door.

"Ah, see that's a bit of a problem. I don't actually have a licence." He laughed aware of the irony of having a garage paced full of cars. "Never been interested." Sherlock pointed at the Landrover, John unlocked a cupboard and took out the keys. "Are you sure you're ok with this Sherlock?"

"I can drive." Sherlock said slightly confused.

"No, I mean us staying in a hotel together. I just don't think it's a good idea to be here for the next couple of days." Sherlock nodded.

"Aside from interviewing Mary's mother there's not much left to do here." Sherlock opened drivers door.

"I doubt you're going to have much luck there Sherlock. Mary's mother has Alzheimer’s." Sherlock nodded, very little of what he had learned seemed to make sense.

They pulled out of the garage onto the grit path that surrounded the castle. John looked up at the tower room. 

"Why is she gone Sherlock?" John asked, Sherlock stopped the car.

"I don't know yet John. But I can tell you what you're looking at isn't what it seems to be." John turned to face him.

"I don't understand." John said.

"What are you looking at?" Sherlock asked.

"The tower room where Mary disappeared." John replied.

"That's not the tower room. The spiral staircase and corridors are disorientating." Sherlock stated.

"How do you know that?" John asked.

"The crow that flew into the window. It should have been below the tower but it wasn't. The window in the tower room is in such a position that no one is able to look out, leading me to believe that the room is not in the tower at all. I believe the actual tower room has been blocked off and this room has been made to look like it in it's place." Sherlock said with a flourish. John's mouth hung open in awe.

"Amazing, it's definitely possible, but why?" John said flabbergasted.

"No idea but it's going to be fun finding out." Sherlock replied as he pulled away.


	12. Chapter 12

John had a restless nights sleep, tossing and turning in the starchy hotel sheets. Ever the gentleman he had taken two rooms allowing Sherlock his own space. As he lay there his thoughts had wondered, thinking about the beautiful creature laying in the adjoining room, knowing that only 2" of wood separated them. At 6am he had decided enough was enough shucked on his dressing gown and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. He heard a gentle rap on the door.

"John?" Sherlock called. John swallowed, imagining the vision that could walk through the door on his command.

"Come in." He said with a little trepidation. Sherlock walked in perfectly dressed in his suit from the previous day and looked John up and down. John ran his fingers through his mussed hair in an attempt to straighten up. Sherlock cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you want a cup of tea?" John asked automatically putting a tea bag in the second cup on the table, Sherlock nodded.

"My contact has come through." Sherlock started looking down at his phone. "Your grandfather was an informer for the British Government. I've been told there are no records of the General after he visited the castle. My contact will be sending me all the relevant paperwork so that I make my own deductions" Sherlock put his phone back into his jacket pocket.

"That makes me feel a little better." John said as he passed Sherlock a steaming hot cup of tea. "You have a theory though." 

"Of course. The General is dead, his body is somewhere in the grounds of the castle." Sherlock smiled.

"You trust your contact then?" John asked.

"Not completely but I have something on him." Sherlock replied sipping his tea. 

"Oh..." John replied not liking the thought of blackmail. "Well it seems that we don't have much to do for the time being. Everything's a bit complicated at home. So we're a bit stuck. Is there anything you'd like to see while you're here?"

"No." Sherlock replied as he watched John move to sit down on the chair by the dressing table, John sipped his tea thoughtfully. "You want to make love to me." Sherlock stated straight faced. John spat out his tea.

"You what... Oh god. Yes, no." John flicked the specks of tea with his hand. "That was blunt."

"Well I'm not adverse to it, you are an attractive man." Sherlock replied with a sly smile. John could feel the blush rising up from his chest to his cheeks.

"Call me old fashioned, but I really need to know what's happened to Mary before I commit to anything." John said as his heart fluttered in his chest.

"It doesn't have to be like that." Sherlock sauntered over to John who swallowed hard.

"Why don't we go to Edinburgh Zoo? I've been meaning to go and see the Pandas." John jumped up and opened the bathroom door, frightened of what he might do if Sherlock continued with his current course of thought. Sherlock rolled his eyes, amused.

"You're wrong you know." Sherlock said as he cornered John. "We're not entirely stuck." John's eyes glazed over as he stared at Sherlock's long elegant neck.

"Uh?" John grunted lost in thought, his blood being diverted from his brain.

"Your neighbour is having a Garden Party, which will give me a good opportunity to do some research." He kissed John's neck. "I have an added incentive to solve this case now." Sherlock turned on his foot and headed for his bedroom.

"What about my mother?" John shouted wanting to avoid her.

"She's going shopping in Edinburgh today, might even see the Pandas." Sherlock said before he winked and slipped into his bedroom.

John sighed, the whirlwind that was Sherlock Holmes made him feel more alive than he had ever felt before. He slipped off his robe and stepped into the cold shower, looking forward to the rest of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm going to have to at least pick up a clean shirt Sherlock." John said as he closed the car door. John was wearing his jeans and cream jumper from the previous day, even though his mother had insisted he change before dinner. He was quite grateful now that he'd decided against the formal dinner suit. There was no way he could wear them to a garden party though.

"I suggest you refrain from the cable knit jumpers." Sherlock replied as they headed toward the local high street.

"You don't like my jumpers?" John said smiling.

"I like your jumpers a lot, but it could be a problem." Sherlock winked. John shifted in his seat. He himself had a thing about purple shirts.

"I really do hope you're going to solve this case quickly." John replied as his heart rate quickened.

 

Sherlock waited in the car park as John went off to make his purchases. He had hoped that they would be able to share a room. John confused him, on the one hand the man would quite happily kiss him into the mattress, but then he refused to go any further. Even though it was quite obvious Mary had only been after one thing John still honoured his word. The passenger door opened and Sherlock snapped back to reality.

"So you decided to go for the country chic look then?" Sherlock said sarcastically as John pulled a plaid shirt out of his Peacocks bag.

"I like it." John replied as he pulled off his jumper and the t-shirt underneath, he stopped as he felt Sherlock's eyes on his skin. John knew exactly what Sherlock was looking at. "I know, it's ugly." Sherlock reached out and touched the scar that covered most of his left shoulder blade. His cool fingers tingled pleasantly on his skin.

"No." Sherlock swallowed hard. "Not ugly." John pulled the tags off the clothes he had bought as Sherlock continued to stare.

"You know it's rue to stare." Sherlock blushed and John realised he wasn't just looking at his scar.

"No I don't think you're ugly, far from it." Sherlock said with a smirk as John pulled his new t-shirt over his head.

 

The change in Sherlock's persona was quite unnerving when they arrived at the garden party. Gone was the cool exterior, replaced with a happy chatty gentleman. They mingled as normal people would making pleasant conversation with anyone that stopped them.

"Tedious." Sherlock whispered as he smiled at yet another eligible bachelorette who was trying to sweeten him up. John grinned happily knowing that Sherlock had other interests and would, in the foreseeable future be in his bed. John saw the host Mrs Ashford-White and introduced Sherlock to her , as he was waylaid by yet another nosey neighbour enquiring about Mary.

"You know my dear it's nice to see the Barron." She said to Sherlock leading him to a more secluded area. 

"Indeed, John really is a rather nice fellow and I hate to see him so down." Sherlock replied as he placed his hand on her arm.

"How do you know him my dear?" She asked.

"We trained at Bart's together." They sat down on a bench in the shade of an old oak tree. "I wish I knew where Mary was, it's destroying him." Sherlock said as he wiped a crocodile tear from his eye.

"Yes it's a pity about Mary, but I don't think she would have done him any good. Rumour has it that she was seeing another man. I imagine she's run off with him." She said trying to reassure the man that had plucked at her heart strings. 

"Really? How do you know?" Sherlock asked his voice wavering with emotion.

"My sister is the district nurse and she overheard a telephone call while she was visiting Mary's mother. Well as she only heard one side of the conversation it doesn't make a lot of sense." She replied, trying to calm Sherlock.

"What did she hear?" Sherlock asked, finally feeling he getting somewhere.

"She said, something along the lines of 'we'll be together, and we'll have enough money to do whatever we want." Sherlock frowned, finally taking his leave.

"Thank you. I must find John." He stood, starting Mrs Ashford-White and dashed over to John.

"John." Sherlock interrupted. John sighed audibly as Sherlock pulled him away from the hosts husband.

"Thank god, he was trying to get me to join the hunt again. I really don't see the fun in fully grown men on horses with dogs ripping a tiny creature apart." John followed Sherlock as he walked over to the car.

"You really are the odd one out in your family aren't you." Sherlock said.

"Problem?" John asked.

"Not at all I detest blood sports." Sherlock smiled and got into the car. 

"Where are we going Sherlock?" John asked as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"To visit Mary's mother. I believe she may hold the key." Sherlock replied as he started the engine.


	14. Chapter 14

They pulled up outside an idyllic cottage with miniature pink roses winding around the wrought iron garden gate.

"How predictable." Sherlock said in disgust. John frowned but chose to ignore the comment.

"So what exactly did you find out at the party?" John asked, curious as to why they were visiting a woman who could hardly remember her own name. 

"I believe Mary may have had a lover." Sherlock replied.

"Oh." John felt a sudden sinking in his stomach. John looked at his trembling hands. "I don't believe it. Mary might not have been Harry's type but she wouldn't do that, she took care of me Sherlock. She kept me going when I had nothing." Sherlock raised an eyebrow not understanding why he was acting this way.

"Why are you getting so upset John?" He asked.

"Because Sherlock, she was my bloody fiancée. I do have feelings for her." John replied through gritted teeth. Sherlock shrugged and opened the car door to get out. John took a deep breath, the all intelligent Sherlock didn't seem to understand. "Fine, let's go and see Mrs Morstan." John opened the door got out, then slammed it. If Sherlock was going to be like that well fine, John thought.

 

John walked up the little path with Sherlock behind him, knocked on the front door house and waited.

"Just let me do all the talking." He said to Sherlock as Mrs Morstan's carer opened the door.

"Hello Barron." She said letting him in. "Mrs Morstan will be so pleased to see you." She stood back as they made their way into the sitting room where Mrs Morstan was sat in her armchair.

"Hello David, how are you? Who's your friend?" She said looking at Sherlock. John stared at Sherlock waiting for him to correct her mistake, he didn't.

"I'm fine thank you Mrs Morstan. This is John." Sherlock replied.

"I hope you're looking after Mary." She said smiling. "You were always so good together." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I am indeed Mrs Morstan." Sherlock smiled sitting down on the sofa. John waved away the career as Sherlock started to talk to the old lady. John could see Sherlock was going to take full advantage of the situation and felt uncomfortable. "I just popped in on the off chance that you might have Mary's address book. We're going to visit some friends and she's forgotten the street name." John tried to calm himself as the old lady stood and opened a drawer in her sideboard.

"I don't like this." John whispered.

"Do you want to find out what happened to your fiancée?" Sherlock whispered back with a look of annoyance on his face. John's mouth snapped shut, Sherlock was right of course.

"Here you go David, silly Mary forgetting an address like that!" She said passing the book to Sherlock. He slipped it into his jacket pocket, as the carer brought in a tea tray.

"Shall I be mother?" Sherlock asked as he started to our the tea. John stared at anything except Sherlock, worried that he might explode at any moment.

 

"How the fuck could you do that! Sherlock she's a little old lady, don't you care?" Sherlock shrugged, and pulled out the address book. "Sherlock answer me!"

"Caring is not an advantage." Sherlock stated flatly.

"Fine, fine." John said as he started to shake. "You're obviously not the man I thought you were." Sherlock grabbed him by the wrist.

"I care about you John." Sherlock said as John struggled against him. Sherlock pushed him against the side of the car, and kissed him hard. The struggle went out of John almost immediately and he calmed running his fingers through Sherlock's silky curls.

"I hate you sometimes." John said as he pulled away a string of saliva still connecting them. "So what next?" John asked opening his car door and rearranging himself in his trousers. Sherlock's phone beeped in his pocket, he took it out and read the message.

"Fantastic, the case notes have arrived." Sherlock said visibly annoyed.

"That's good isn't it?" John said.

"Normally I would say yes, but they have been delivered by someone I would rather not see." Sherlock replied as he started the engine.

"Who delivered it Sherlock?" John asked the curiosity killing him.

"Lestrade, Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock snarled as they pulled off.


	15. Chapter 15

As they pulled up outside Mrs Hudson's house they saw a silver Volkswagen Polo parked outside. It was empty. Sherlock sighed, obviously the charismatic Inspector Lestrade had introduced himself to Mrs Hudson, and was now sitting drinking tea and eating biscuits Sherlock's biscuits. Sherlock stormed into the house like a whirlwind.

"Sherlock." Lestrade greeted.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock spat out.

"Oh nice to see you too. I'm on holiday would you believe." Lestrade replied sipping his tea.

"No I wouldn't." Sherlock said taking the plate of biscuits off Lestrade's lap and putting it on the far edge of the table so he couldn't reach.

"Hello." Lestrade said to John who smiled and nodded. "Well I heard you were up here so I offered to drop off the case notes myself. What are you up to?"

"I'm waiting for an explanation inspector, why are you here?" Sherlock asked, annoyance in his every pore.

"I told you I'm on holiday." Lestrade enunciated as if it would help get the point across.

"You're as brown as a nut, you've obviously just come back from your holidays." Sherlock snapped. John stood in the middle watching, it was like a game of verbal tennis.

"Maybe I fancied another one." Greg replied taking another sip of tea.

"Oh this is him isn't it, he's sent down my handler to spy on me." Sherlock groaned. John listened intrigued.

"Look, I'm not your handler, I don't just do what he tells me." Lestrade sighed. Sherlock sat down and looked at the case notes.

"Biscuit John?" Sherlock asked as Mrs Hudson came in bearing two piping hot cups of tea.

 

"So let me get this right, you're investigating John's fiancée's disappearance, and you want me to come to Bristol with you tomorrow to see the man she may or may not have been having an affair with?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes." Sherlock replied. "I believe we may be able to use you to our advantage."

"Nice to know I'm useful sometimes." Lestrade sniggered.

"Would you like to stay for dinner Inspector? There's plenty to go round. I've made a nice steak and kidney pie for the boys with tatties and nips." Mrs Hudson said smiling. John winked at Lestrade.

"You really should try Mrs Hudson's steak and kidney pie." John said as Sherlock made a noise that sounded like a growl.

"That would be lovely Mrs Hudson." Lestrade answered taking great joy in annoying Sherlock. "So you're staying with Mrs Hudson then?" Sherlock ignored him and continued leafing through the case notes.

"Yes." John replied. "We are." Lestrade smiled knowingly. He didn't consider himself a bad detective, and had noticed the glances Sherlock had been throwing John when he thought Lestrade wasn't looking.

"Why aren't you staying at the castle?" Lestrade asked. 

"Mind your own business." Sherlock snapped.

 

"My neck's killing me." John said yawning.

"You should have taken the bed John, or we could have shared." Sherlock replied as he pushed John over to sit on the sofa. John took the opportunity to snuggle into Sherlock. His old worn T-shirt was soft under his face. Sherlock ran his hand over John's spiky hair. "Tea?" He asked. John grumbled, knowing Sherlock wanted him to make it, stood up and made his way into the kitchen.

"What hotel are we picking Lestrade up from?" John shouted as he flicked on the kettle. Suddenly arms were wrapping around him and a certain detective was becoming rather clingy.

"We don't have to take him with us." Sherlock whispered. John pushed back into Sherlock feeling that he was indeed happy to see him.

"You were the one that said he could be useful. Plus he's a nice guy." John smiled.

"He's not a complete idiot." Sherlock groaned as John pulled away to put the tea in the teapot.

"That's a compliment coming from you." John sniggered. "Come on, tea, get dressed then we'll go and get Lestrade. We have to check in at 8.15." John said as he stretched out his neck. 

 

They arrived in Bristol airport at 11.30. John had managed to sleep for the entire hour they were in the air, snuggled comfortably into Sherlock's shoulder. Lestrade had watched intrigued. As far as he knew, Sherlock had never shown a romantic interest in anyone. He wondered what the small unassuming man had that nobody else did.

"God I'm starving." Lestrade announced as soon a they were out of the airport. Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"I'm sure they have a Greggs in the city centre." John sniggered, Lestrade grinned.

"Very funny." He replied as Sherlock looked between them suspiciously.

"Think he missed the joke there." John laughed. Sherlock ignored them and flagged down a cab.

"The Royal Apartment, Berkeley Avenue please." Sherlock instructed as they got in.

 

Twenty five minutes later they were stood outside the Royal Apartment which appeared to be a converted bookshop. Sherlock stretched his legs.

"What do you want me to do?" John asked shifting his weight from foot to foot, not wanting to meet the man that Mary had possibly been cheating on him with.

"We're right in the middle of the city centre so you should be able to find a coffee shop. Wait there until I text you." John nodded and took off leaving Sherlock and Lestrade to talk to David. Lestrade rang the doorbell.

"Hello?" A voice from the speaker said.

"Mr David Jenson? I'm Inspector Lestrade from the metropolitan police, we'd like your help with the disappearance of Miss Mary Mortsan." There was a pause.

"Come up." The man replied as the door buzzed open.

"I'm David Jenson." The man at the door said. He was a tall man with brown curly eyes and his pallor suggested that he was in shock. "Come in and sit down." Lestrade sat down on the sofa as Sherlock looked around the living room.

"First I'd like to ask if you know where Miss Morstan is?" Lestrade asked keeping a careful eye on Sherlock.

"I didn't even know she was missing, I haven't heard anything from her for weeks." David replied.

"Do you have a close relationship with Mary?" David put his head in his hands, Sherlock stared at the back of David's head, his eyes boring into the skull of the man that had caused John pain.

"I...I.. Oh god. She, she was my everything. I loved her. Where is she?" David asked.

"That's what we're trying to find out. Now this might be a little uncomfortable for you, but were you in a sexual relationship with Miss Morstan?" 

"Yes." David replied shaking.

"Can you tell me why, considering Miss Morstan has been engaged to two other men in the last three years?" Lestrade asked, David sighed.

"Mary wanted a better life for us. I went bankrupt before we had a chance. Mary lost all the money she had invested with me and had a nervous breakdown." A tear fell from David's eye. "She just wanted it to be better." Sherlock turned on his heel.

"Care to explain why you were present when Harry Watson was fatally injured?" Sherlock asked. David looked surprised.

"It was the only way I could see her, keep her safe. H..Hu..Harry was a violent drunk." David spluttered. Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. "Fine, I think we have enough. Lestrade." With that Sherlock made a quick exit.

"What was that all about." Lestrade asked.

"The man's an idiot." Sherlock replied typing furiously on his phone.

"What are you doing now?" Lestrade groaned as Sherlock took off down the road.

"Getting John to order me an espresso." Sherlock smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

"John I'm sorry." Sherlock said as he sat on the bed in John's hotel room. He'd told John about David, and his suspicion that the man was holding something back. The colour had drained from John's face and he was visibly shaking as he dropped down into one of the chairs. 

"Could he have been a stalker or something?" John asked clutching at straws.

"I'm afraid not John. There were photographs of them together recently." Sherlock replied calmly.

"How can you tell how old a bloody photograph is?" John yelled, feeing that he was falling to pieces.

"One was taken in London about two months ago, there was a billboard behind them for a show. One that only ran for a week." John rubbed his temples holding back the tears. How could she? Why would she? His tears blurred his eyes as he pushed Sherlock down on the bed and fumbled for his belt buckle.

"Please." John cried. "I need this." Sherlock pushed his hands away and rolled them over so that he was on top.

"I know you don't want this, not like this." Sherlock said, his deep voice resonating through John's body. John sniffed and held Sherlock to him.

"Stay then, stay so I'm not alone tonight." Sherlock nodded and kissed John's forehead.

"Of course." He extracted himself from John and stood at the side of the bed. "Get ready and I'll be with you in a moment." Sherlock made his way back to his own room, he closed the door and punched it leaving a fist sized dent. If he ever found Mary Morstan he was going to kill her himself.

 

The return journey to Ayton was spent in silence. John stared out the window continuously avoiding eye contact with both Sherlock and Lestrade. They dropped Lestrade at his hotel and continued home.

"Take me home tothe castle." John had said as they were getting close. "I need to sort some things out." Sherlock drove straight to the castle where John's mother was waiting anxiously by the front door.

"Why have you brought that man here?" She yelled as John got out of the car. He sucked in his breath ready for the assault on his sexuality.

"He is my fucking friend mother." He shouted back at her. "And if you hadn't forgotten the estate now belongs to me. So don't you dare tell me who I can bring onto it." John's mother looked taken aback her mouth open in shock. John stormed past her into the house with Sherlock on his tail.

"Moriarty." He shouted at the top of his voice only for the butler to appear seconds later at his side. "Is Mrs Hudson in the kitchen?" He asked.

"Yes Sir." Moriarty replied watching Sherlock stand far too close to John for his liking.

"Good. I think I'll see if I can bed some bread and jam. Are you coming Sherlock?" John said as he clasped Sherlock's hand in his own. "You haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Mrs Hudson's steak and kidney pie has filled me up for a couple of days." Sherlock grinned, John shot him an annoyed look.

"Don't even try that. You're having dinner with me here tonight." John stated, as he walked down to the kitchen leaving Sherlock alone with Moriarty.

"Do you love him?" Moriarty asked trace of sadness in his eyes. Sherlock stared at the man a moment before nodding. "You wouldn't hurt him?" Moriarty asked.

"No." Sherlock replied, he had the strangest feeling something wasn't quite right. Moriarty turned and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Sherlock wandered though the house aimlessly, looking for something he might have missed. He found John's grandmother sitting knitting by the big fireplace in what seemed to be the lounge.

"Mrs Watson." He said taking the seat opposite her. She smiled and nodded.

"I'm so glad to see you. I thought Margaret had got rid of John for good. I assume he's gone to find bread and jam." She said as Sherlock grinned widely.

"You are a very exceptional woman." He replied. "But I do think there's something you're not telling me." 

"It's silly really." She said. "Mary told me she'd reached out to try and grab Harry as he fell. She was a little tipsy at the time, we'd been celebrating their engagement that day. When I thought back, I'd heard her make her statement to the police. She said she was walking with one of the other hikers, David something."

"David Jenson?" Sherlock said.

"Yes that was his name." She replied looking into Sherlock's eyes. "How did you know that?"

"I met him yesterday." He replied. The puzzle was almost complete in his mind, he just needed one more piece. 

Mrs Hudson rushed into the room.

"Oh Sherlock something terrible has happened, you must come. Moriarty's on the roof, he says he's going to jump. John's gone up to talk him down!"


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock ran as fast as he could up into the attic to the roof access point. There was no way he was going to leave John alone with that madman. He carefully climbed onto the tiled sloped roof to find John standing next to the chimney stack his arm outstretched toward Moriarty.

"Jim, please come back." John begged as Moriarty stepped closer to the edge, balancing precariously.

"I can't live with it any longer." Jim said as tears streamed down his face.

"Jim please. Come back in, we can talk about it." John begged. Jim stared at him, his features contorting into something strange.

"I watched Harry die. I saw Mary push him and I was glad. I knew that someday it would bring you back to me. But then she took you from me and now he's taking you away." Moriarty screamed.

"Don't please don't, I don't want to loose another friend, not again." John cried.

"You don't love me." Moriarty yelled, looking at Sherlock crouched behind John.

"Jim, you care about me don't you?" John asked. Moriarty nodded. "Then you should come back I need you. You have to help me put the person who killed Harry behind bars." Moriarty looked at the ground and back at John, he took a shaky step toward him. John stretched out his arm caught Moriarty's hand and pulled him close to him. "Don't ever do anything like that again you stupid sod." John grunted as both he and Sherlock helped Moriarty back into the attic.

 

"James." Sherlock said as he sat down next to Moriarty on the sofa. John was on the phone arranging for Moriarty to get some medical attention on the other side of the room. "Do you know where Mary is?" Moriarty shook his head. "You didn't hurt her." Again Moriarty shook his head. Sherlock had the sinking feeling that he was telling the truth and there was more to the story.

"Jim, I've arranged for somewhere for you to stay tonight. They'll be here to pick you up in an hour. Do you want to pack a few things?" John asked as kindly as he could.

"Yes." Moriarty said his eyes now a dull blue of what went before.

"Sherlock, I won't be long." John said as he helped Moriarty up. Sherlock followed behind keeping a close watch. The hatred that Moriarty had shown him before was now absent and it scared him.

 

Lestrade appeared at the house before Jim was taken to a care facility and took his statement.

"Do you think his statement will hold up?" John asked as soon as Jim was taken.

"It's enough for the boys in Bristol to bring David in. He looks like the sort of man that would crack under pressure." Lestrade replied. "We could have him as an accessory. But that still leaves Mary missing."

"And we're back at square one." John sighed. "Where is Mary? Moriarty didn't know anything." Sherlock sat quietly and steepled his fingers under his chin. They had unintentionally solved one murder, but the one puzzle he had come to investigate still had him at a loss.

"Why don't you stay in the castle tonight Greg?" John asked. "Mrs Hudson is cooking, and you can meet the rest of my family."

"Lovely. I think I might enjoy that." Lestrade smiled.

 

"Where's Sherlock?" John's grandmother asked as dinner was served.

"In my room laying down on my bed." John smirked, his mother scowled at him across the table. "My mother thinks being gay is a choice." He stated, Greg grinned in response.

"In that case I made a very odd choice." Lestrade giggled. "My wife cheated on me, divorced me and I fell in love with a man. He's possibly more annoying than Sherlock." John's mother scowled and took her leave from the table.

"Margret was brought up differently to the rest of the Watson's." John's grandmother smiled. "She doesn't quite understand the concept of love." Lestrade nodded.

"It took my mother a while to understand, but she came round. She eventually told me that I was a very lucky man because I had the ability to see past physicality's and love someone for who they were." Lestrade smiled. "I'm very lucky."

Sherlock appeared on queue just as the dessert course was being served. He smiled politely and sat down at the table.

"We only have one option left John." He said as he put a spoonful of rice pudding into his mouth. "Oh my god this is amazing!" Sherlock licked the spoon.

"Go on Sherlock, forget the rice pudding you were saying something." John said half smiling. Sherlock hummed quietly savouring the creamy goodness in his mouth.

"Oh yes I think we should stay in the tower room for the night." He replied before taking another mouthful of rice pudding.


	18. Chapter 18

"You brought your pyjama's?" Sherlock exclaimed as John set them down on the bed.

"You said we should treat this as if we were staying in the room like anyone else would. So I'm getting ready for bed like normal." John said as he put his toiletries in the bathroom. "Pity there's no shower in here." Sherlock lay down on top of the covers on the bed, a huge spider fell onto the bedspread.

"John." Sherlock called staring at the creature that was offending him. John popped his head out of the bathroom.

"You want me to get rid of the spider?" John grinned.

"Well I certainly don't want it as a bedfellow." Sherlock scowled. John swept the frightened spider up in his hand and put it outside the door.

"Do you think we should be locked in." John asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"I've checked the door and frame, there are no concealed switches. So it would make no difference if we were locked in here." Sherlock said as John cleaned his teeth. "Your grandmother wouldn't allow it either."

"No?" John replied around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"She told me we were to stay together at all times while we were in here too." Sherlock smirked. John gargled in the bathroom before spitting the toothpaste out. "Is that what grandmothers do then?" Sherlock smirked.

"Yup, they worry constantly. You're not going to be sleeping?" John asked rubbing his eyes as he padded into the room. "You should, it's been such a long day." Sherlock pulled back the covers and patted the bed so John could get in.

"I have to keep an eye out." Sherlock winked. "You sleep, I'll keep watch." 

 

John woke to a sharp pain in his neck and shoulder. He pulled away realising that he had somehow fallen asleep on Sherlock's arm. Sherlock looked down at him and smiled.

"Thank you." Sherlock said as he pulled his dead arm from under John. "I was worried that you may have caused permanent damage."

"Why didn't you move it then?" John grumbled rubbing his neck.

"Sentiment, I was enjoying watching you sleep." Sherlock replied. John smiled and sat up, it felt like his head could fall off at any moment. 

"Could you get me a couple of paracetamol? They're in my bag in my room." John asked as he slowly made his way into the bathroom. Sherlock stood and stretched out his back as he heard John turn the tap on.

"I'll be a couple of minutes." He called as he walked down the spiral staircase.

 

Lestrade was waiting for Sherlock as he exited John's bedroom with a packet of paracetamol in his hand.

"Everything alright Sherlock?" Lestrade asked looking down at what he was holding.

"John slept awkwardly." Sherlock replied.

"Oh that's not good. He wants to have a hot bath." Lestrade said. Sherlock looked at Lestrade as something clicked in his head. The tights Mary had torn from her body, the spider falling out of the canopy. Sherlock paled in an instant, John was taking a bath, he had heard the tap running. 

"Lestrade!" He yelled running toward the tower room. 

 

John sank into the hot steamy water with a sigh. It really was the perfect thing to ease all the stiffness away. He wiggled his toes on the end of the bath listening to it creek as it settled. There was a loud whirring sound and the bath dropped from a horizontal position to an almost vertical one, pouring it's contents out. John fell into cold stale water. He opened his eyes looking around in the water confused. A huge chill ran though his body as he turned and saw the face of his fiancée before him, silent in her watery grave. He kicked his legs trying to get away. A skeleton floated near the bottom of the tank like some macabre horror movie. John screamed silently, the last of his air leaving his body. The mechanism groaned and started to return the bath back to it's horizontal position. John struggled to make it to the surface before he was trapped.


	19. Chapter 19

"John!" Sherlock screamed the panic in his voice evident. John could see Sherlock's hands reaching for him through the gloomy water and he struggled with his last ounce of energy to get to them.

"Oh fuck." Lestrade screamed as he used his foot to stop the bath from retracting into place. "Sherlock have you got him?" Sherlock had forced his torso in the gap and struggled frantically to pull John out.

It all seemed to happen in a millisecond. Sherlock grabbed John under the arms clutching him hard, using his nails to get a purchase on his wet skin. John kicked toward him and slid out of the gap, they both flew across the room. John landed on Sherlock and took a deep painful breath. Lestrade let out a sigh of relief and ran over to them.

 

Police swarmed the castle as John took a long hot shower. The stale water seemed to want to cling to him permanently leaving him smelling like death. John scrubbed himself as hard as he could. Sherlock sat on the toilet seat and watched. For the first time in his life he felt unsure.

"You know you don't have to sit there." John said. "I'm alright."

"John.. I, you could have died." Sherlock replied not able to believe his own stupidity. It was all so simple when he thought about it. "I should have known. We almost didn't get to you in time. I could have lost you."

"You're over thinking." John stated, wishing Sherlock could just take a break. "You know you do that too much. Just get in the bloody shower and soap up my back." A smile creped to Sherlock's lips and he started to undress.

 

Sherlock and John lay together wrapped in towels, and blankets on John's bed. John traced patterns on Sherlock's hand as Sherlock listened to him breath. Thankful for every intake of air. The local doctor had given John a sedative and painkillers and his aching body was finally starting to relax. 

"So it was just a tragic accident then?" John asked feeling his eyelids start to droop.

"In all probability." Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock, will you hold me? Just stay till I fall asleep." John asked. Sherlock kissed the top of his head.

"Sleep John. I will be here." Sherlock replied as he stroked John's hair.

 

"You knew." Sherlock said as he sat down opposite John's grandmother, who was staring into the roaring fire in the grate . She turned her gaze toward Sherlock and nodded. 

"I had to protect my family." She said quietly. In the last twenty four hours it seemed that she had gained twenty years. He skin looked almost translucent in he glow of the fire and she was trembling. "I haven't done a very good job recently. How's John?"

"Tired, and somewhat relieved, he's asleep now." Sherlock answered. 

"That's something." She said as she looked down at her shaking hands.

"Is it really a family tradition for the bride to sleep in the tower room?" Sherlock asked.

"No I made it up. I just couldn't let her hurt John after Harry. I didn't know the secret of he tower room. I just hoped it would spirit her away like it did to that awful General." She said as tears fell from her eyes. "John... Oh my goodness my poor grandson." Sherlock took her hand in his.

"John is fine." Sherlock replied . "I'm not going to mention this conversation to the police." He stood to take his leave. "I have to get back to John, I want to be there when he wakes up."

"You really do love him don't you?" John's grandmother asked.

"Of course." Sherlock replied as he saw a glint in her eye.

"It didn't turn out that badly after all then." She said as he walked away.


	20. Chapter 20

John woke with a crick in his neck and reached out toward the handsome man lying next to him. Sherlock’s gaze turned toward John and he smiled lazily.

“So are you going to tell me exactly what happened then?” John asked, the slight trace of sleepiness wiped away by his frown.

“It seems that the tower room was built as an elaborate trap. The hole in the canopy intended to drop something on the person on the bed, making them need use the bath. I believe Mary had arachnophobia, causing her to rip off her stockings and bathe. Rather unfortunately the bed itself put you in the same situation.” Sherlock stated.

“My grandfather killed a man?” John said flatly.

“A man responsible for many deaths John.” Sherlock replied.

“I would have done the same thing.” John said as he started to get out of bed. “Sherlock there’s something I need to go and do. Would you mind if I did it alone?” Sherlock nodded in response and made his way to the door.

“I’ll be at Mrs Hudson’s house.” He called.

 

John sat down in the kitchen staring at a split in the old oak table. He had decided to leave, the castle held too many secrets, too much ill feeling. His mother would overcome her homophobia but John didn’t know if he could get past her reaction. John wanted to stand on his own two feet again and not rely on his family wealth. Mrs Hudson placed his usual steaming hot cup of tea down in front of him.

“I’m leaving John.” She said with a sniff, he looked up at her in shock.

“What? Where are you going to go?” He asked, not wanting the current events to force her out of her home.

“Home, back to London.” Mrs Hudson replied. John had always known that Mrs Hudson was from London and rented the cottage from the family, but rent in London would be ridiculous for a pensioner.

“Are you sure you can afford that?” He asked. She grinned.

“I have a house John, I had it converted into flats, years ago. Turned out to be a good investment.” She took his hand in hers. “It might be useful.” John smiled at her.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” John asked.

“I’ve known you a long time John Watson.” She said as she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

 

“Sherlock!” John shouted as he opened Mrs Hudson’s front door. A stranger in a three piece suit with stood before him swinging his umbrella to and fro. “Who are you?” John asked squaring up to him.

“Just an interested party.” The man said smiling eerily.

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked, concerned for the safety of his friend.

“He’s gone back to London.” The man stated looking John up and down. John’s heart sunk, Sherlock had left without saying goodbye.

“Who are you?” John asked.

“An interested party.” The man replied.

“Interested, in Sherlock, why? I’m guessing you’re not friends.” John said as he felt a chill run down his spine.

“You’ve met him, how many friends do you imagine he has?” The man asked. John felt oddly offended. “I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having.”

“What’s that?” John asked sadly.

“An enemy.” The man replied.

“An enemy?” John asked surprised that this strange man would think he was intelligent enough to be an enemy of the most brilliant man he had ever met.

“In his mind. If you were to ask him he would probably say his arch enemy, he does love to be dramatic.” The man smirked.

“Well thank god you’re above all that.” John mumbled as he watched the umbrella twirl and dance in the man’s hand.

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?” The man asked as he leaned against the wall.

“I could be wrong, but I think that’s none of your business.” John answered annoyed.

“It could be.” The man said.

“It really couldn’t.” John snarled back.

“If you do decide to continue your friendship with Sherlock Holmes I would be glad to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis, since you be relying on your army pension.” The man said smugly.

“Why?” John asked as he felt the anger building up inside him. It was oddly reminiscent of the first time he had met Sherlock but without the immediate attraction.

“Because you won’t be a rich man." The man replied taking a small black book out of his pocket.

"How the hell do you know what I'm going to do?" John shouted. The man's eyebrows rose but he stood his ground. John calmed pushing back his anger. "You'll pay me money, in exchange for what?"

"Information. Nothing indiscrete, nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with, just tell me what he's up to." The man stated as if he were asking John to do something reasonable, like look after his cat.

"Why?" John said wanting to punch the man in the nose.

"I worry about him, constantly." The man replied, sincerity in his voice.

"That's nice of you." John said sarcastically, as far as he knew if you cared for someone you didn't pay someone to spy on them.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have, what you might call a difficult relationship." The man looked down at the umbrella in his hand.

"No." John said as he looked the man in the eyes.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure." The man said a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Don't bother." John replied as he turned to look at the front door.

"You're very loyal very quickly." The man laughed.

"No I'm not, I'm just not interested. Are we done?" John asked, his patience wearing thin.

"You tell me." The man said. John showed him the door.

"Goodbye." John replied as the man walked and got into a dark car that he hadn't noticed on his way in. John took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text.

**Sherlock, where are you?  
JW**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long time just seems to slip away sometimes!


	21. Chapter 21

A week later John still hadn't received a return text from Sherlock. He was tempted to follow him to London, but realised he didn't know where to start. John was annoyed with himself, realising he didn't actually know that much about his friend. Still, John thought, tomorrow he would be someone else, somewhere else. He squared up and looked at himself in his bedroom mirror.

"Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of you life John Watson." He said to his reflection. 

 

A taxi pulled up outside the front door. John stepped out of the vestibule to greet his guests. His mother and grandmother had been called together and were waiting in the living room around the warm welcoming grate. John took a deep breath as he stepped into the room.

"Mum, Gran, I have someone I want to introduce you too." John said, they watched and waited as a young woman stepped around John. Behind her was a small boy. "This is Sarah, and this is Hamish." John said scooping the small boy up into his arms and receiving a hug in return. John's mother stared, her hand flying up to her mouth. "Hamish is Harry's son." He said before she jumped to any conclusions.

"Hello." John's mother said quietly. Sarah smiled and shook her hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you before." Sarah said. John put Hamish down on the floor and he walked slowly toward his new family. " I was a bit afraid."

"Hamish is deaf." John said. "He can't read lips yet, but he does sign."   
_This is your Grandmother._ John signed to Hamish. The little boy smiled happily and leapt into her arms. She smoothed his blonde hair back away from his eyes. 

"Hello." She said grinning widely. John's mobile went off in his pocket signalling a text alert.

**Do you mind the violin?  
SH**

John grinned, he was not forgotten. He placed his mobile back in his pocket and returned to his family, relishing the happiness that the little boy had brought back to the castle.

 

Later, after supper John returned to his room for the last time and replied to Sherlock's message.

**I'm sorry what?  
JW**

The reply was almost instantaneous.

**I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?  
SH**

John blinked at his phone, confused.

**I don't think so. Why?  
JW**

John lay in his bed for the rest of the night dozing and waiting for a response that never came. He watched the sun rise through his window and sighed. Being a country gent was never the life he had intended, but he felt sad that he was leaving his family behind. He would visit of course, but it would never be the same again.

 

The morning was filled with tears and goodbye's. John kissed his mother and grand mother goodbye and slid into a taxi next to Mrs Hudson with just his army duffel bag. They would travel to London together, John would help her move into her home and in turn he would move into the flat she'd offered him.

He watched the castle disappear in the back mirror and felt a great sense of relief flow over him as he headed towards his new life in London.

"Are you ok dearie?" Mrs Hudson asked as she clutched her small suitcase. John grinned.

"I'm fine Mrs Hudson, just fine."

 

John held Mrs Hudson's suitcase as she unlocked the huge black door of 221b Baker Street. The door opened and he found himself standing on the doorstep staring at the flowery wall paper inside. Mrs Hudson extricated her suitcase from his trembling fingers. 

"First floor, go up and have a look." She said smiling. She walked down the hallway to the door of the ground floor flat. John headed up the stairs.

The flat was reasonably decorated, could do with some work though he thought. He looked at the piles of papers and junk strewn around. Obviously the previous tenant hadn't cleaned up after themselves. He spotted a comfy looking armchair and sat down. Perfect, this would be just fine, he grinned to himself. He turned as he heard Mrs Hudson walking up the stairs.

"What do you think John. Is it ok?" She asked, a sly grin on her face.

"It's lovely Mrs Hudson, just what I wanted." He replied. Mrs Hudson wrung her hands.

"There is one thing I didn't mention I'm afraid." She said frowning. "This is a flat share." John's mouth formed an 'o'.

"Hello John." A failure voice said from behind him. John turned almost giving himself whiplash. "I'm your new flatmate." John flew toward Sherlock and swept him up in his arms.

"I'm sorry I disappeared, slight explosion at my flat in Montague street. My brother insisted I resolve the situation." Sherlock replied wrapping his arms around John.

"Your brother? He doesn't have an odd affinity for umbrella's does he?" John asked as he started unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

"Oh good you've met him." Sherlock replied sarcastically, as he made short work of taking John's jacket off. 

"There's another bedroom upstairs, but I don't think you'll be needing it." Mrs Hudson giggled as she left the room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Sherlock asked as John peppered kisses up his neck.

"Bed." John growled. "Now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a prologue ;)


	22. Chapter 22

John lay in bed in the arms of his lover. The ten days since he’d made Baker Street his home had passed in a daze. Warm sheets and kisses had made him forget everything except Sherlock Holmes. Mrs Hudson brought the occasional casserole to sustain them, secretly hoping that her ceiling would have a rest from the pounding it was receiving.

John stuck his head out of the cocoon of sheets he and Sherlock had created as he heard a familiar voice call out from the kitchen.

“Sherlock?” Lestrade called. Sherlock grumbled for a moment and then shot up out of bed taking the sheet with him and leaving John shivering in his birthday suit. “I need your help.” Sherlock turned to John and smiled. The case was afoot.

“You may need to put some clothes on.” Sherlock said striding toward the living room, sweeping the sheet around himself to hide his behind.

“What about you?” John called after him.

“Assessment first John, I don’t leave the flat for anything less than a seven.” John ran his fingers through his hair and pulled on some pants. So this was Sherlock Holmes, he thought to himself. This was how his life was going to play out. John smiled, it was going to be brilliant. “Where are you John?” Sherlock called.

“Just coming!” John said grinning like a lunatic and finishing getting dressed.


End file.
